The Grand Cooperative (Round One: Waiting Room Bar & Grill)

Or... no, hang on, is it-- actually lemme spoiler this to save space

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Is it just Whim's post that's been canonized? First time I read it I sort of assumed Voxie'd just let everyone along; seemed an in-character thing for her to do at the time, and certainly everyone else went along with it. Seeing it this second time I suppose I just assumed total retroactive continuity with all posts until then.

But, is it s'posed to be just the seven of us right now? Well, eight, if you count Prometheus, but I don't tend to, exactly... I can go back and rewrite, that being the case...

Though, I suppose-- Are we in a round? Is it just this empty blackness, or is this still prologuery? 'Cos if that's the case it's not totally implausible that Vox did take everyone, an' the Trio could always choose whether or not to take everyone else along to the actual first round. Did say they needed more symbols... Or, well, if y'wanted to spin it like that, anyway.

God, my first real post and it already feels like I've ruined everything. Beautiful.

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Not to worry nottles~! We will be building things up as we go along, I just didn't want to keep all of you waiting! If people just want to be chosen or even just pop out into existence that works too~!

[color=#FF88888]Mediacraci raised their hands, the metal tips on their fingers glittering in the dim light of the bar. In front of them the battered laptop computer began to frazzle the dark green beer mat it was on, and the smell of burning plastic began to waft into the air.

"Well, this is different."

The bar was, in a word, ridiculous. It stretched into a vanishing point at one end, as if leading unto infinity; a tweak of perspective, on the other hand, revealed it to be a literal vanishing point for geometric beings looking to relieve themselves. While Meddi hadn't had any personal experience with the multiverse and its diverse and frankly incomprehensible living beings, the image they got from what the future agents said... well, they could take it or leave it, and frankly Meddy could stand to do a hell of a lot of leaving. The big "EXIT" sign above the main double-doors glowed comfortingly, promisingly...

"Door's closed, miss...sir...individual." The bouncer would have been confused, but let's face it, ol' brickhead here was too dumb to be confused. "And for that, individual, if the Door wasn't closed right now, I'd throw you right out of it." Crap. Thinking out loud again. Terrible habit in a spy.

There were a various grouping of peoples brought together and clustered at the bar, some of which Meddy recognized from the meeting of the towering time-beings. They settled on the closest - the cleric Lucian, perched on a stool and drinking from a honeyed tankard, grimacing all the while.

Sidling close, they waved down a bartender. "I'll have what he's having. Do you do credits? Or credit?"[/color]

Porky orders One b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-beer, p-p-p-please

heres another character i hope you dont mind

Username!: Gatr
Name: Gatr
Color: #thesexnumberx3
Race: Gatr
Description: Buff
Items/Abilities: Muscles
Biography: He flexes his muscles a lot. Once, he flexed so hard all his muscles turned into ass then they turned back to normal except he's now

B U F F

Gatr looked across the cosmos. All the contestants fighting... it all seemed so pointless. A single manly tear shed forth from his sexy reptilian eyes. It fell onto his pectorals and they twitched a little, sending small shockwaves across the universe. They were just enough to bring everyone's attention towards him. Still floating in midspace, he flexed one arm. Several planets exploded, then the dust and debris coalesced into a new planet. The planet had abs. He flexed the other arm. An entire sun collapsed into a black hole, then out of it came two legs that were darker than pure black and also very buff. They attached to the planet, then the planet did a pelvic thrust, sending cracks across the realm of reality, and killing several trillion life forms. Then Gatr winked. The life returned to their corpses just long enough for them to look upon Gatr's majestic form. They then died from the sight.

But everyone was impressed.

Porky orders One b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-beer, p-p-p-please

The bartender hands Porky a beer.

The universe was stranger than it had right to be; a fatal trap came rushing upon them like the 'last drinks' order at the bar. Mediacraci looked up from their drink.

"What is this, anyway?"

"Mead." In front of the bar, Prometheus the magical box robot of some description tottered a bit. The single stein placed precariously on top its surface wobbled dangerously. "Honey wine."

"Mmm." Mediacraci took another sip, and winced. "It's very... odd."

"It is a recipe brewed in the village I once called home. There is none like it." The wizard glares suspiciously at the bartender. "How it has come across the ages and times to here and now, I do not know." His voice lowered, touching the floor. "I am not yet convinced that I am not dreaming."

"Well, you'd know if you were dreaming, wouldn't you?" They drank together this time, one deeply, one shallowly. "Pinch yourself yet?"

The bartender doesn't hand Porky a beer, and Mediacraci and whoever don't do that thing. Because they are dead. I flexed them to death. I mean Gatr flexed them to death. Everybody's dead!

You can continue to admire my pecs though. Look at them glisten.

Okay, Mediacraci can drink their honey thing. Gatr is the bartender now, and he turns around, flexing his back muscles. Mediacraci is awed.

Porky is too!

[color=#696969]The bartender doesn't hand Porky a beer, and Mediacraci and whoever don't do that thing. Because they are dead. I flexed them to death. I mean Gatr flexed them to death. Everybody's dead!

no. that's stupid. you're stupid. you can't just kill everyone before they start playing!

You already started playing! You only have yourself to blame for not even attempting to stop my ultraplanetary flexplosion.

... Gatr said.

Mediacraci rose, tears streaming from their eyes like the riverbanks of abandoned factories along the shores of a polluted sea. In each tear, refracted, a microcosm of the universe, nay, the multiple facets of life itself internalized and reformed in a wonderful rainbow. The hearts and minds of those collected together here today saw and wept, and wept again, waves crashing on the shores of sorrow and the hated lands of the oppressive air within this sick, sad world.

On at 9PM, Tuesdays.

Then there was the division. A jam of the highest order, a broken axe bringing the death-knell, a guillotine of the soul, a lobotomy of the mind rebringing the ancients to rise. Mediacraci saw, and knew, and did nothing.

They always did nothing.

It hurt, and that's what drink was for.